


it felt like i was alive again

by BeesKnees



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, Death: wait what--, Human Sacrifice, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortality lost, M/M, Nicky: Did I stutter?, Nicky: Everyone has their time. Except Joe. I don't give him permission to die., Oral Sex, Prompt Fill, Ritual Sex, Temporary Character Death, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, buckle up for feels my friends, which is a little gnarly but not detailed and it is temporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: “Nile,” Joe says in that patient, warm way. “You heard what Nicky said at Merrick's and he's right. So much of this, we have to just accept without understanding. Our dying is a part of that.”“I think Nicky might feel a little differently now that you're dying, Joe!” Nile says sharply.___Joe loses his immortality. Nile finds a ritual based on sex and sacrifice to restore it.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 48
Kudos: 490





	it felt like i was alive again

It happens, unexpectedly, during breakfast one morning. As if the world was waiting for them to drop their guard again.

Nile is sipping her coffee slowly, watching Joe tackle breakfast. Usually, group breakfasts are Nicky's domain, but Nicky had slept in this particular Sunday, and Joe was loathe to wake him. Booker had volunteered to take over, but Joe had insisted he was going to do it.

Booker had raised his eyebrows at Nile in quiet amusement before he had retreated.

“Don't listen to him,” Joe had said, gesturing at Booker as if he could shoo him away faster. “Just because he and Nicky are geniuses in the kitchen doesn't mean that I can't feed us.”

Nile is interested in seeing which way this falls. It's so hard to find anything that they aren't flawlessly good at with so many years to practice. But Nile figures that she has to find _something_ eventually. 

Joe talks to her amicably about an upcoming football match (Nile has already deduced that she's going to have to find an interest in the sport if she's going to earn her spot in this family) while he cracks eggs and chops vegetables and throws bread into the toaster.

Despite herself, Nile's stomach does start to growl.

Across the room, Joe apparently hears it, because he turns to look at her, grinning cheekily and winking. He's about to make some smart comment when he leans back a little too far and plants a good part of his left forearm on the burner.

“Shit!” he says, pulling his arm away and frowning at the burn.

“Just what I want to hear from the man cooking my breakfast,” Andy says tartly as she exits the bathroom and drops herself into the seat beside Nile. Rather than procuring her own cup of coffee, she steals Nile's. Nile is still snarking at Andy when Booker returns to the kitchen and Nicky finally wanders out of the bedroom, looking sleep mussed and still only wearing the shorts he went to bed in.

“Oh, hell no,” Nile says, taking one look at the expression on Joe's face when he sees Nicky. “It's too early for this.” 

Book snorts into his own coffee. 

“It's never too early for love, Nile,” Joe declares as he brings breakfast to them. “You're too young to be so cynical.” 

He gives Nicky his plate last and leans in to kiss him. Nicky hums pleasantly into the kiss. Nile half expects Joe to give a romantic speech, but Nicky pulls out the chair for Joe, and Joe acquiesces and sits. 

For a few moments they're all quiet as they dig into their breakfast. It is pretty good, Nile has to admit. Not as good as Nicky or Booker, but definitely more than edible. In between bites, Nicky reaches for Joe in the casual way that they do. He catches one of Joe's wrists and rotates his arm, exposing his forearm. For a moment, it looks like he's about to wipe jam off Joe's skin. But then pauses.

Joe looks down at his arm as well. Time slows and then stops around Nicky and Joe. It takes Joe several seconds to figure out exactly what's happening: he almost comments about how there's still a burn on his arm like it's just a little oddity – oh, it's hailing outside or the car's got a flat. But then it detonates inside of him – that all these minutes when he thought the continued ache was because he was healing was because he was still burning. 

Joe looks to Nicky, who is still holding his wrist. Nicky's expression has gone entirely blank and, for one of the rare times in their long lives together, Joe doesn't know what he's supposed to do or say to make Nicky feel better. He's never seen Nicky quite like this before. 

Joe is faintly aware that the entire table has gone dead silent, everyone staring at him, forks paused in mid-air.

Nicky runs his thumb over the burn like it's something he might still be able to rub away. Joe flinches despite himself and pulls away from Nicky on instinct. 

Nicky stands up so fast that his chair skitters backward and then clatters to the floor. Without saying anything to anyone, he walks toward the kitchen counter with steadfast purpose. 

Someone tries to say Nicky's name – maybe all of them together, welling their collective voices, but it's still not enough.

Nicky pulls the butcher's knife out of the knife block and sinks it down into his left hand without any reaction at all. He pulls it back out and blood patters across the counter. Nicky stares at his hand, and, the same as it has for nearly 1,000 years, his skin knits itself back together. He becomes perfect once again. He remains immortal. 

He drops to his knees right there in the kitchen and begins to sob. Andy gets to him first, sweeping down on the floor to wrap her arms around him and pull him against her. She rocks him a little, makes a gentle shushing noise that is absolutely lost to Nicky's distress. Booker goes down on the other, providing a solid line against Nicky's side, cocooning him.

Joe and Nile are both on their feet. Nile isn't quite sure what her place in this just yet – just that her heart is thumping messily because something about her arrival seem to have thrown everything off. Is she to blame for this?

Every mourning emotion is shading Joe's eyes. Everything inside of him tells him to go to Nicky and comfort him, but he's never been the source of pain like this before. 

In between Book and Andy, Nicky is repeating, “I can't, I can't,” over and over again in Italian as if he's bargaining with a god that hasn't paid attention to them for nearly a thousand years. That's when Joe breaks and goes to Nicky.

Joe kneels slowly in front of him, cupping Nicky's cheeks in his palms and swiping away tears with his thumbs.

“Shh, my love,” Joe says quietly. “Please breathe.”

“How can I?” Nicky gasps back. “The air is gone.”

There's a moment of pause too long, one where Joe would usually fill up the silence with comfort and consolation. But what can he say now? They've spent hundreds of years dreading this: that one would go before the other, neither knowing which scenario would be worse. 

“I can't,” Nicky continues in Italian so rapid and rambling that Nile can only follow every other word. “I can't keep my promise to you, my love. I cannot do this without you. I don't want to try.” 

“Nicky,” Joe says, pained. He's never faltered in speaking so much before – particularly not with Nicky, not since they gained a shared language. 

“Nicky, he's still here,” Booker tries. They all refrain from pointing out that, immortal as they are, there's nothing Nicky can do to hasten his leaving of the world if it simply isn't his time yet. But it seems cruel to throw facts and his own words into his face right now. 

“For how long?” Nicky says, turning his head only briefly toward Booker before looking right back up at Joe. “Thirty years at most?” He seems to realize them even as he says them, a new note of terror clanging inside of him – the realization that they were born in a time when bodies did not last long. That the most mundane of accidents can take Joe away from him now, that they're living in senseless uncertainty.

“Nicky,” Joe begs, and Nile can hear that he's crying now. “Nicky, hayati.” He presses his forehead against Nicky's. “We knew that no amount of time would be enough. Didn't we? But we didn't waste any of it. We've seen it all together, habibi. I have loved you as well as I could at every moment. We've worked to make this world a better one than the one we died in. What else could there be, my sweet Nicky?”

Nicky can't answer. He twines his arms around Joe's neck, holding tight to him. Book and Andy let go of Nicky, and Joe pulls both of them to their feet. He nods at Booker and Andy, and then retreats to their bedroom, bringing Nicky along with him.

The silence after their departure rings. 

…

Joe holds Nicky while he cries himself to sleep. He keeps murmuring gently to Nicky, but he knows there's nothing that's going to alleviate this ache. 

Joe can't sleep even after Nicky finally gives in. His breathing – wet and stuffy – is the only thing filling the room. Nicky's so close that Joe can't look at him properly, so he just focuses on the feel of him in his arms, the press of Nicky's nose against his chin, those lanky limbs intertwined with his own. 

He feels so guilty. 

He can barely even consider his own feelings about his new mortality because he's too busy worrying about Nicky. They had always known this would be harder on the one being left behind. Until this morning, Joe had clung to the notion that the world couldn't be so cruel as to separate them after all this time. They've died together and lived together, so it's only right that their real deaths come together. Maybe that's still possible. As Booker had pointed out, he's not gone yet. They could wake tomorrow and find that Nicky's healing has stopped too. He doesn't know what outcome is the worst to hope for. 

And some hateful, traitorous part of him is relieved that he'll never be the one who has to live without Nicky. His life _will_ begin and end with Nicolo di Genova. 

He's so stuck in the loop of his thoughts that he misses the sound of Nicky's breathing changing.

“I can't be in charge of them,” Nicky says suddenly, his voice still blotted from all the crying.

It takes a moment for Joe to connect to the dots, to realize that Nicky has calculated that when Joe and Andy are gone, he'll be the oldest by far. 

“They'll need you,” Joe says quietly, hoping that will end up being a balm to Nicky – that maybe Booker's and Nile's youth will be a blessing in disguise. “And you'll do a perfect job taking care of them.”

“I don't care,” Nicky answers, turning his face further into Joe's neck. “I meant it, Joe. I'm not doing it without you. When you stop, so do I.”

Joe swallows, the sound audible to both of them. Maybe he should let it go, give Nicky more time. But he's also afraid to give this seed any more space to root. 

“Nicolo,” Joe says quietly, with all the adoration of a millennia. He pulls Nicky's face away from his neck, cupping it in his palms so he can see him again. “Nicky, you simply are going to have to keep going because you have no other choice, my love.” 

It's a cold comfort, he knows. But it's also simple facts. Nicky can't kill himself. So what other options are there? But as he looks at Nicky, he sees something steely in his gaze that frightens Joe a little, that maybe Nicky _has_ come up with some unknown option that the rest of them haven't thought of. He thinks of Nicky trying to kill himself time and time again, waiting for his immortality to run out – of Quynh drowning in the ocean for 500 years. 

He has to do everything he can to stop it. But he's too raw to give voice to that idea just yet.

“My heart, my life,” Joe murmurs, running his fingertips over Nicky's face – the bow of his lips and then arch of his nose. “When you find the way that you can go on, and when you find happiness even beyond that, I will love you for it, Nicolo.”

Nicky shakes his head, already trying to rebuff it but Joe presses his fingertips against Nicky's lips.

“Yes,” Joe continues. “Yes, my Nicky. If it is destiny that brings us together and destiny that makes us live so long, then it might be destiny for me to go before you. That maybe you have more good that you need to do on this planet, habibi.” 

“No, Joe,” Nicky chokes. “No, you've always been the better man.” 

“My sweet Nicky,” Joe murmurs with a sad and longing smile. 

They let the conversation trail off again, even though they both know this is a talk they will have a thousand times over still. 

Nicky falls back asleep at some point and this time, Joe drifts too.

When he wakes again, it's late – a limbo point of nighttime. The burn on his arm aches. His body hurts in ways he's grown used to not feeling.

He blinks when he realizes that Nicky is not in the bed anymore. His heart leaps into his throat before he finds Nicky sitting near the open window. He's smoking a cigarette and letting the smoke plume out the window. Despite the fact that Joe's barely moved, Nicky knows he's awake.

“I was listening to you breathe,” Nicky confesses. “I was afraid you would stop. I worried the building would burn down. I was scared that someone would break in and I wouldn't be fast enough.”

“Nicky,” Joe says, knowing that Nicky could and would keep going. He peels the blankets off and goes across the room. He drapes himself across Nicky's shoulders. He kisses the top of his head and then takes the cigarette so he can take a drag on it as well. 

He doesn't want to spend his final years in just sorrow and fear. He knows it's easier for him to say than Nicky, but he can't abide the idea of Nicky wrapping him up and being afraid of every ill wind blowing his way.

“I want to go Mecca once more,” he tells Nicky. “And then spend a while in Malta with you.” He's trying to think of all of the wonders of the world that he's come to love and all the cities where he's felt best loved by Nicky. 

Nicky pauses.

“We should go see the Russian Ballet,” Nicky suggests, and Joe is so relieved to hear him planning along, even if his voice is wet again. “And the redwoods in California.” 

“Mm, yes,” Joe answers, humming and pressing a kiss to Nicky's neck. He likes being around living things that were old when they were new. “I'd like to show Nile Italy alongside you. Think of all the artists we can tell her we slept with.”

Nicky snorts, the only moderately happy noise he's made in hours. They stay like that for awhile longer, passing the cigarette back and forth until they've finished it.

“Come back to bed with me, my love,” Joe murmurs. “I want to feel you against me.”

…

The next few days are a play at normalcy. They're all together, but there's no talk of what the next mission is, of when they might split up. 

Andy and Joe start to share a gallows humor, but only when they're absolutely sure that Nicky is out of earshot. 

Joe plans his trip to Mecca and unspools idea after idea so that Nicky has many other trips to plan while he's away – places they'll need to find accommodations for and houses that will need to be reopened and refreshed before going. He asks Nicky to find art and oddities that they haven't set eyes on in decades that are somewhere in their storage. (Things that will go to Booker and Nile, but neither of them specifies that out loud just yet.)

He knows that Nicky is nervous about him traveling by himself. But he also understands why Joe needs to go. 

“Trust me to come back to you, habibi,” Joe murmurs as he kisses Nicky goodbye.

…

Nile, Booker, and Andy all keep a close eye on Nicky while Joe is away. Nile and Booker help him with the technical aspects of planning. 

“He's doing pretty good, huh?” Nile asks one night as they're getting ready for bed.

“He knows Joe will come back this time,” Andy says. 

…

Joe does, and Nicky makes a veritable feast for his return. They're all happy and together, not having to play at the former for once.

But toward the end of the evening when they're all playing cards, more than a little tipsy, and the others are betting the oddest things they've accumulated, Nile can't help herself. She's sad.

This is just starting to feel like a family to her, and she's already in the process of losing it.

…

Nicky doesn't mean to overhear. They're just so used to being in each other's pockets that what secrets are there to keep anymore? 

Apparently, some, now that the foundation of their family is uneven. 

“Nile, this is ridiculous,” Andy says. It's the first thing that Nicky can hear through the door, and he pauses for a moment, because Andy sounds legitimately pained.

“No, listen,” Nile protests. “I thought so too, but Copley wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't think it had some validity to it--”

“I can't believe the two of you went behind our backs to Copley,” Joe says, but he also sounds more tired than angry.

“It was my idea,” Nile defends with that savage brightness that they'll all come to love and admire her for. “Booker just double-checked some of the sources that Copley sent over, okay? I was the one who went to Copley to say that we wanted to try and find a way to restore immortality. What's the harm in trying this? I don't understand. Maybe it _will_ be stupid, but why do we have to just _give up_?”

“Nile,” Joe says in that patient, warm way that makes Nicky's knees go weak when he witnesses it. “You heard what Nicky said at Merrick's and he's right. So much of this, we have to just accept without understanding. Our dying is a part of that.”

“I think Nicky might feel a little differently now that you're dying, Joe!” Nile says sharply. 

There's a long pause. On the other side of the door, Nicky's heart is pounding in his ears. He feels almost dizzy as if he processes that Nile thinks she's found some way to reverse Joe's dying. He knows that Andy and Joe are right. It's impossible. Why should Copley have been able to dig up something that Andy and the rest of them are unaware of?

“It's up to Joe,” Andy says finally, “on whether or not we tell Nicky. Do you understand? Booker? Nile?” 

Another pregnant pause.

“Don't tell him, please,” Joe says finally. “This can't possibly work. It'll just hurt him when it doesn't. I just want to spend the rest of our time together enjoying it as much as we can, okay? I don't want to waste it chasing made-up crap.” 

“Joe,” Nile protests one more time. 

“No,” Joe says stalwartly. Nicky hears him get up, but he still doesn't move from where he's standing in front of the door, so when Joe opens it, they're face to face.

“Habibi,” Joe says, and he has the good grace to look ashen.

Nicky turns away from him without saying anything, because he doesn't know what there is to say. He hasn't been this angry with Joe in such a long time – and yet, he still knows it's not really Joe he's angry with. He's angry with the world for not letting him keep Joe longer.

“Nicky!” Joe calls after him, heading immediately after him. 

Nicky storms into their bedroom even though Joe is only steps behind him. 

“ _You don't get to make these decisions for me, Yusuf!_ ” Nicky bursts out as soon as Joe reaches for him. He's too worked up for English. He defers to Italian, even though Booker and Andy will know every word of the argument.

“ _Nicolo,_ ” Joe pleads.

“ _You don't get to take away my right to fight for you,_ ” Nicky says staunchly. “ _I_ need _to be able to fight for you, Joe_.”

“ _Nicky, this is what I don't want – I don't want to spend our last years together fighting_ each other.” 

“ _Fighting? This isn't fighting. You don't have my sword in your chest, so we're not fighting._ ”

At that, Joe pauses and cracks a grin. And then he's laughing, and Nicky goes against him despite himself. He hides against Joe's chest as Joe snorts with laughter. Nicky doesn't know whether he's on the verge of laughing or crying – and promptly ends up doing both, because he's so in love with this man and the light he brings to everything and he can't fathom any semblance of a life without him.

Joe just keeps holding him, running a hand up and down his back and rocking their bodies slowly together until Nicky can breathe again.

“What did Nile find?” Nicky finally asks, wetly, feeling utterly wrung out.

“A sex ritual, actually,” Joe says, his lips pressed to the top of Nicky's head, the scarcest traces of amusement in his voice.

“You're lying,” Nicky says.

“To you? Never, my heart,” Joe says. But then he sighs. “I told her that it's all made up. We've never found magic like that.”

“Haven't we?” Nicky asks pleadingly, pulling away so that he can look at Joe. “We use all sorts of different words for it, but what else is the fact that we're still alive? That something out there in the universe recognized the moment we killed each other and said that we deserved more, that we deserved a chance to be better for one another? Why can't this ritual be another way of the universe giving us that, Joe?” 

Joe's eyes are filled with so much sorrow that they hurt Nicky to look at.

“If it was the other way,” Nicky persists, “would you want to try this for me?”

“Yes, all right,” Joe relents, his voice breaking. “But, Nicky...” he hesitates, fingers trailing Nicky's face. “I meant it. I don't want to spend our last years together chasing after false hope. I want the time to matter. I don't want to waste it trying to buy more time when it's so unlikely that we can.” 

“All right,” Nicky agrees, closing his eyes. “We'll try just this one. And then we'll go to Malta.” _I'll figure out how to say good-bye_ is implied but unsaid. 

“All right,” Joe agrees as well, leaning in to gently kiss Nicky. He smiles a little crookedly then. “Ritual sex, eh? It's been awhile.”

…

As it turns out, fucking immortality into someone isn't an easy – or fun – task to accomplish. 

It involves a lot more of Nicky's blood than Joe would care for – and at least four deaths from Nicky. Joe wants to call it off just based on that, but he knows it's too late, and he can't bear to hear Nicky say that if he died permanently it would solve their problem in a different way. 

The ritual also calls for the help of four other people, which means that Copley gets roped into helping despite his wariness. Copley tries to say they're fulfilling the roles of “priests,” but Nile starts using the word “handmaiden” and that's what ultimately ends up sticking despite Copley's chagrin. 

Mostly, they represent elements. Each of them is tasked with delivering a vial of Nicky's blood to an old, ancient place that represents their element. It's supposed to tie Nicky into the life force and timelessness of the earth. Andy ends up taking her blood to the redwoods, because the other options seem too dangerous and no one is willing to make her deal with water. Copley goes to the Mediterranean near where Joe and Nicky first met to pour Nicky's blood into the sea. Nile happily heads to Hawaii to deliver some blood to a volcano, and Booker takes the last vial to the top of Mt. Everest.

Both Nicky and Joe have to intermittently fast for a month beforehand, and then completely fast for two days leading up to the ritual. They also have to give up sex for the month beforehand.

(“This better work,” Joe mutters, cranky and tired and hungry one morning, watching Nicky bend over to pick something up.)

Finally all those pieces fall into place, though, and they're able to hold their ritual on an upcoming full moon. They travel to one of their remote properties where there's no chance of being interrupted and observed. 

The day of, Joe is antsy. He's not entirely sure this isn't a mistake, but it's too late now. He's on his own for the day while the other four are with Nicky the whole time. He half wishes they were with him so he could say that he's concerned – that he doesn't like that they're going to kill Nicky four times in rapid succession. That he doesn't like that the others are going to have to do it. He suspects Nile is going to have an especially hard time of it. 

The last sex ritual they did was so much more fun than this one.

At moonrise, Andy comes to get him. He half wishes she would call it off, but she just guides him to where the others are already waiting. Nicky is ringed by candles, the other three standing outside the circle. They turn to look at him as he arrives, and Joe feels his mouth go dry. He's a little dizzy from hunger – something he hasn't felt so acutely in years. 

Nicky is wearing only a thin robe, his head bowed, fingers interlaced. He's praying, Joe knows. Praying to the God he somehow still believes in when he's about to complete an arcane ritual based on sex and blood. He looks devastatingly otherworldly. 

When he opens his eyes to look at Joe, they're much darker than Joe is used to. _My love,_ Joe thinks as he comes to stand just in front of Nicky who is on his knees.

Behind them, Andy reads something in a language so old that only she knows it. When she's finished, she hands a rope off to Joe. He accepts it with numb fingers and then goes about the task of tying Nicky up. They'd joked so much while they practiced this part, but now that it's here, Joe finds the whole thing humorless. It feels too much like he's sacrificing Nicky. 

Nicky is steadfast, though – as he always is. If he has any nerves or concerns about what they're doing, none of them show. If they were doing anything else, Joe would take comfort from that. 

Joe lets his fingers linger over the inside of Nicky's wrists, every single touch telling Nicky that he loves him in the most important language they've ever known. 

When he's done, he parts slowly from Nicky and heads back outside the circle to the others. 

“You're up, Copley,” Andy says, her voice stern in a way that is holding them all together. She'd picked Copley to go first, because she wasn't sure if his nerve would hold if he saw the others killing Nicky first. 

So, death by water is first. 

“Back to the circle, Joe,” Andy commands. Joe had never figured out if this was actually a part of the ritual or just something Andy decided to add in to make this easier on him. It doesn't matter. He does as his boss tells him and turns around, even though his skin crawls at the idea of Copley murdering Nicky so close to him while he does nothing. It goes against every instinct he's ingrained over so many years. 

There's an initial splash and then silence. Which only tells Joe that Nicky's being good at not fighting the hold that Copley has on him. The idea of it nearly makes him sick. He grabs for Andy's wrist, and she lets him, but she keeps her eyes forward at the same time.

Minutes drag and drag, and then there's the sound of Nicky gasping wetly and coughing up whatever water got into his lungs. 

Joe hears footsteps behind him and Copley appears in his line of sight. He does look shaky. The front of his pants are drenched with water, and he can't quite meet Joe's eyes as he finishes the last part of his task. He dabs a mixture of water onto Joe's lips – some taken from the Mediterranean and some taken from a vial of holy water that Nicky had found in his storage. They'd all looked for the oldest things they possessed for Joe's “adornments.” When Nile had asked just which pope had blessed this particular bit of water, Nicky had sheepishly admittedly that he didn't know. 

“Nile,” Andy calls next. She has, Joe would argue, the hardest of the elements, particularly because she's so young. And when he hears the crackle of the flames, Joe finally breaks. He grabs Andy again.

“Tell them to stop,” Joe tells her. “I changed my mind. This is a mistake.” Nile is strong, yes, but this is too much to ask of her. 

“No,” Andy answers immediately and without any hesitation.

“Andromache,” Joe says in a rare instance of defiance. “Would you have let Quynh do this for you?”

Andy finally meets his gaze.

“I wouldn't want her to,” Andy admits. “But do you think that I wouldn't do this in a second if this would even tell us where she is? You can't make Nicky and Nile live the rest of their lives wondering if this would have worked if they had just been a little stronger.”

The burning seems to drag on for forever, punctuated by the occasional noise of pain from Nicky despite himself. Even though he's eaten nothing, Joe does vomit in the grass at some point, all stomach acid. Booker quietly steps up next to him and runs a hand over his back. If anyone had told Joe a few years ago how much comfort he would take from that simple action from _Booker_ , he would have called them crazy.

Finally, finally, this part is over. Nile hurries to him. Her jaw is a tight line that shows she's upset but being strong. She takes her mixture of ash and smears it over Joe's forehead. It's made of volcanic ash and the remains of an incredibly old painting they had burned for this purpose. They had all neglected to tell Nile exactly which painting they had chosen to spare her at least a little distress.

Joe feels … strange as she steps away. He swears Nile looks a little different, as if her skin is being lit by firelight from all sides, the red reflected in the dark matter of her eyes. He's always pulled toward Nicky, but it feels different than before. As if something is burning away from him every moment that he isn't touching Nicky. He wants to give in and turn around to look for his beloved.

“Book,” Andy calls, and it's the sound of her voice that stops Joe from doing so.

Booker must step through the circle, but Joe suddenly can't hear anything but his heartbeat and the night humming around them. 

He grabs at Andy's wrist again.

“Andy,” he says, trying to hide the urgency that he feels. “I need Nicky.” She turns toward him again, and maybe her expression is one of surprise, but Joe doesn't know. Joe just knows that he needs Nicky. 

“You gotta wait, Joe,” Andy answers after a pause. Joe rocks back and forth a little without letting go of her wrist. He almost asks her for Nicky again. With every breath he takes, he's needing Nicky more. He doesn't know how to explain to Andy how much it hurts.

He's so caught up in the spiral of his thoughts, that he's honestly surprised when Booker suddenly appears in front of him. 

Oh, his poor broken brother. His poor, sorrow-laden brother. Joe loves him so much, and he wonders if he actually has explained that enough since they allowed him to break his exile early. That's why it had hurt so much. 

Booker takes each of his hands and blows gently across his palms one at a time. (Breath of an immortal recently on Everest.) Joe shivers. He's gone. His thoughts of Booker and Nile and Copley dissolve. His worry over whether this would work or if he was going to die soon dissipate. There's only the need for his Nicolo, the man the universe saw fit to gift him with. He's thinking of the long line of Nicky's neck and the way that Joe can pull bruises to the surface just for a few minutes. The way the color of his eyes seems to shift with the weather – and, oh, Joe has spent so many years trying to get those colors exactly right on paper, but it's always shifting on him, just out of reach--

He almost turns.

“Back to the circle, Joe!” Andy calls, and her voice is from further away. Someone's hands secure him, and he doesn't know whose they are. He makes a noise of discontentment. They're not Nicky's. Still, he plants himself. He tries to behave.

When Andy reaches him, he feels drunk. She presses some leaves and flowers into his mouth that he knows were chosen for a specific reason and were very hard to find, but he can't remember anything past that. He chews methodically despite how objectively gross it is, because once he's done, he can go to Nicky. 

He swallows.

“All right,” Andy says quietly. “Go, Joe.”

He doesn't know if he could have withheld – even with another order from Andy. He turns gracelessly to where Nicky is standing in the middle of the circle again, naked. He's a mess, smeared with ash and dirt. He's so fucking beautiful that Joe almost starts to cry just by seeing him. 

He crosses back into the circle with a few quick strides, practically colliding into Nicky. Nicky cups his face so gently, and there _are_ tears in Nicky's eyes.

“Yusuf,” Nicky breathes, and Joe can feel the word on his face. 

He feels all his heat and longing reflected back at him. He's in awe. He's loved Nicky for so long. He had just known it suddenly, brightly, one day after they had been traveling together for nearly a decade. He had believed then that there wouldn't be anyone other than his Nicolo for him, but it had seemed so brash to say it then – to say forever when they didn't know what their immortality would hold. They couldn't conceive of living hundreds of years let alone loving during them.

But it had been true. There was only ever Nicky, who had defined the world that they traveled through. There is only Nicky.

“I love you,” Joe says, as if stunned, even though he's said the words so many times before in so many different languages. But this is different: this is Yusuf al-Kaysani with more than 900 years of love for this man stored in his body. He loves Nicky with all the culmination of that. 

Nicky pets his face, the scarcest hint of a smile on his face. Joe can't wait anymore. He surges forward again, their mouths clashing together. Joe feels his lower lip split and tastes the tang of blood – which lasts so long when he can't heal. He moans against Nicky, pushing the line of his body up against Nicky's. _Take me,_ he wants to say. _Keep telling the universe I'm yours._

Instead, Joe drops roughly to his knees. He'll bruise later. He braces his hands against Nicky's hips and swallows his cock in one go, moaning again as the taste wipes everything else away. Nicky groans so loud, the sound bracing in the night air. One of his hands fists in Joe's hair, his hips rocking forward. Joe feels an obscene sense of pride as he looks up at Nicky through his eyelashes. He does this. It's his job to make this man feel the best pleasure he's ever known. 

Joe worships him with his mouth. He sucks Nicky off sloppy and loud, no patience for finesse. It doesn't matter, because Nicky is panting above him, his fingers digging into Joe's scalp. He liberally leaks precome into Joe's mouth, obviously needing this – needing Joe – just as intensely. It's no time at all before Nicky shoots down his throat, and Joe is whimpering, pawing at Nicky's hips and trying to swallow everything he's been given.

This man died for him four times today. This man killed him the first time to make him an immortal.

When Nicky is finished, Joe presses his forehead against Nicky's hip and tries to remember how to breathe. 

His body is absolutely humming for Nicky. He would beg – do anything – if Nicky asked it of him right now.

But Nicky is simply moving to the ground alongside him, his hands stroking along the sides of Joe's body. 

“Shh,” Nicky hushes him. “I've got you, habibi.” He must be whining again. 

He spreads Joe out on his back, the ground firm and unyielding beneath them. Joe stares helplessly up at Nicky, who is haloed by stars. He spreads his legs. 

“Look at you,” Nicky says, as if in awe of him. Joe would choke on a laugh if he could, because what could he be right now compared to how Nicky looks? But he's much, much too far gone for words, to tell Nicky of his ethereal beauty. 

Nicky slicks his fingers up with lube and slides one inside of Joe, taking everything much slower than Joe wants. He can't take his eyes off Nicky. He's good for him. He keeps himself relaxed and rocks faintly into Nicky's touch when he adds another finger, but he doesn't go chasing his own pleasure just yet. He wants Nicky in him too much to be distracted by anything else. 

Nicky is murmuring, low, to him, switching between Italian and Arabic, and each of those heated words bloom underneath Joe's skin. 

“Please, Nicolo,” Joe begs, the words so soft that Nicky barely hears them. 

Nicky pauses in his stretching, tilts his head a little, as if he's assessing Joe. Joe shivers under that gaze.

“Come here, my love,” Nicky says finally, his voice the same reassurance that it's always been. He takes Joe by the hips and guides him onto his hands and knees. Joe's cock twitches at the realization that Nicky is going to take him from behind, at the idea of just how deep Nicky is going to get into him.

He does as he's told and offers himself up, fingers digging into the grass in front of him. He chews at his lower lip, causing it to bleed more. Nicky doesn't press into him right away, though. Joe can feel his presence, hovering. He runs a hand down Joe's spine as if he's admiring him. Joe hopes he is. He never tires how he feels under Nicky's gaze and touch. 

“You're mine, Yusuf?” Nicky murmurs.

“Yes,” Joe pleads. He doesn't know how there's any doubt in Nicky's mind. If he had enough of his wits left about him, he'd spend five minutes telling Nicky just how much they belong to each other; they've never been particularly prone to possessiveness simply because they've never needed to be. That they belong to each other is a simple fact. It doesn't need affirmation.

“Always?” Nicky asks. He steadies his hands on Joe's hips.

“Suns and stars,” Joe gasps, deepening the arch of his back. “ _Always._ ”

Nicky rewards him for his answer by sliding into him in one heady thrust. Joe keens. He presses his face against the back of his hands and focuses on the hot length of Nicky inside of him. Finally, finally finally. He's been so empty.

Nicky rolls his hips lazily a few times, and Joe is already almost shouting into the ground. He can't remember the last time he felt this full of Nicky – as if he might overflow when they've barely gotten started at all.

Nicky pauses in his thrusts to drape himself over Joe's back. He bites at Joe's back and then his shoulders and neck before arriving at his ear.

“If you're mine,” Nicky says, and Joe has no idea what the fuck language he's talking in, “then you belong with me. And I'm not ready to give you up yet.”

He doesn't give Joe time to answer – not that Joe has words anymore. He straightens up behind Joe, holds his hips tight, and starts fucking Joe. Joe goes breathless almost immediately, absolutely mewling every time that Nicky snaps his hips forward, pounding on Joe's prostate without mercy. Every one of his motions speaks to how well he knows Joe's body. 

Joe comes, untouched, shouting and tearing at the grass, and Nicky's hips don't even stutter. He just keeps fucking Joe and fucking Joe. Joe is too sensitive and needing it at the same time, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries to get in a spare breath. He can barely hold himself up let alone press himself back into Nicky's thrusts – no, Nicky has totally control over the moment, pulling him back every time, using Joe as it pleases him. 

Joe comes again – feeling impossibly soon – so hard that it's almost painful. His body spasms around Nicky and he can't even get enough breath to make sound anymore. 

Nicky is still going without any break to his rhythm, as if they're going to spend the rest of their life just like this – Nicky fucking him in this field. Joe would let him. It almost always feels like they're trying to get closer and it's not enough. This is a rare time when it feels like it might be enough.

Nicky's groan is so loud that it clatters up Joe's spine when Nicky comes. It feels like it goes on forever, Nicky's hips twitching forward as he rides out the wave of his orgasm, Joe drowning in the spreading heat of it.

When Nicky is finally finished and pulls out, Joe would have collapsed if it weren't for Nicky's grasp around his waist. Nicky maneuvers him onto his back and then comes into his line of sight. Joe smiles lazily up at him, fingers reaching for Nicky's face.

“You feel good, my love?” Nicky asks, low, and Joe nods drunkenly. 

“Do you remember what Andy told us?” Nicky asks, and now he's drawing soft shapes on Joe's lower belly with the brush of his fingertips. Joe begins to smolder again. But he tries to focus on the question because of how intent Nicky looks. Andy's just said so many things to them over the course of time.

Nicky continues before Joe can come up with an answer, apparently content with the fact that Joe is fixated on him.

“We need to come as many times as we can,” Nicky murmurs, and he wraps his fingers around the base of Joe's cock. Joe draws in a sharp breath and his eyes shut for an instant before he forces them open so that he can look at up Nicky again.

“Are you ready for more, tesoro?” Nicky asks. Joe's body aches from sex in a way he's never felt before, but his appetite also feels endless. So, he nods up at Nicky. And Nicky smiles faintly, that slight curve to his mouth that always makes Joe want to bite his upper lip.

Nicky pulls away then, out of his immediate line of sight, and Joe can't help but whimper. He has to sit up. He has to keep his gaze on Nicky. Nicky, languid and liquid, is on his back, lazily stroking himself, somehow already hard again. 

“Come and take what is yours, my darling,” Nicky tells him, and Joe does. Impatiently, he moves Nicky's hand out of the way so that he can straddle Nicky's hips. He lowers himself down slowly, breathing deep as Nicky breaches him again. 

“Nicolo,” Joe practically sighs, wishing there were more words to describe ecstasy.

He sits there for some time, just feeling Nicky inside of him while Nicky pets gently at his hips. 

Only slowly does Joe begin to move, at first just grinding down against Nicky. They've been like this so many times before, and there's something achingly beautiful about the timelessness of their love – that it has lasted longer than empires, that their bodies have given each other pleasure for a cumulative time that is longer than the average human lifespan. That the planet is speckled with constellations of places where they have made love.

Of course Joe wants more of that. He'll take as much as he can get – it just seems so selfish to ask for more when they've had so much, and so foolish to try and chase it. 

But in this moment, his immortality or the lack thereof is the last thing on his mind. This is just another moment in a timeline, a flow, for him and his Nicky. He's not naive enough to ignore the problems and the hate that overspills the earth, but, also, oh, what a beautiful earth it is that has somehow allowed for the miracle of Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicolo di Genova to love each other.

Joe is lifting his hips with purpose now, hiccuping out breaths every time he brings himself down. Nicky is letting him set the pace entirely, and Joe can feel Nicky's gaze on his skin like starlight. He plants both his hands against Nicky's chest and lets himself go. His hips flow, incessant their motion, incessant in his need to take Nicky harder and deeper – to feel the fat head of his cock nearly slip out before plunge back in and slam against his prostate. Joe is alight. 

He knows that Nicky is calling him endearments from all language – they never learned one without finding an exact term for sweetheart, my life, my heart, my love, because what was the point of knowing a language without knowing the softest, most beautiful parts of it?

Nicky is lost in the centuries of them as he speaks words that haven't been spoken in eons, from countries that no longer exist, and from the remotest parts of the planet. The truest ode to them: words representing a symphony of time and place set to the refrain of Joe's gasps of pleasure. 

Joe brings himself down hard and Nicky gasps, stuttering through his Arabic. Joe laughs. He's full of a joy that only Nicky has ever bought him in all this time, in knowing all these people. Only Nicky. 

He forces himself to open his eyes. Joe looks down at Nicky, whose pale skin is utterly flushed – over the arches of his nose and cheeks and down his throat and into his chest. 

“I love you,” Joe says again, the words barely a breath, so simple coming from him. But it's enough for Nicky. He seizes up underneath Joe and comes, emptying himself again. His hands grip at Joe's hips so hard that Joe can feel his pulse underneath the skin. 

It's too much to watch and not react to. His body wants to be in tandem with Nicky's, so he comes as well, whimpering and spilling himself across Nicky's belly. 

He collapses on top of Nicky, which can't be comfortable, but Nicky just twines his arms around him. He plays with Joe's curls and rubs his fingertips against his scalp. Perhaps without being aware of it, he also starts to hum to Joe, the sound vibrating and sinking right into his skin.

He falls asleep like that.

…

When he wakes, it's dawn. The grass around them is dewy and they'd moved sometime during their sleep so that Nicky is pressed along Joe's back. Joe smiles faintly and dips his head down to nuzzle Nicky's arm. They rarely sleep like this.

Nicky shifts against his back and sighs deeply against his neck – he's not awake yet, but he will be soon because Joe is. Joe looks around the best that he can. The candles around them have all melted down to nothing and he thinks he sees the others propped up and sleeping underneath a tree together – all of them, even Copley, burrowed underneath a blanket. Outside the circle nearest them, there's several water bottles, a bottle of orange juice, and a baggy that Joe would bet has some kind of pastry in it. His stomach grumbles at the idea.

“My love,” Nicky breathes awake, his voice still rough around the edges with sleep. Joe raises one of Nicky's hands so he can kiss his palm. They're both silent for a moment. The scene around them is so tranquil all things considered. But now that they're both awake together all they can do is wonder if their ritual worked. 

Joe breathes out softly, so afraid for Nicky in this moment. It would be so much easier to just stay curled in his arms, but he knows that the comfort of this is all gone. He extracts himself from Nicky and heads over to the little cache of supplies resting near their food. He picks up the box of matches. This started with burning, so he figures it might as well end that way too. Nicky's gaze is boring a hole in his back, but Nicky doesn't press him just yet.

Joe lights a match. He holds it to his palm. The flame licks at his skin in a way that still has Joe wincing. He lets it linger just long enough that he can see a mark and then stops. Waits. And waits.

He feels it before he sees it – that tingling that so resembles pain but is actually the body starting to knit itself back together. It hasn't been this slow in centuries for him, but it eventually does become visible: his skin regrowing its layer, returning to its proper color. Joe stares. 

Belatedly, he realizes that his lower lip is no longer split, that his hips and knees aren't bruised. 

He turns, almost aimlessly, to look at Nicky. For a rare moment, it seems like Nicky can't read his expression – or maybe is too wary of being too hopeful and then being disappointed. 

He moves slowly toward Joe and cups both of Joe's hands in his. Joe can hear the intake of breath when Nicky sees that he healed. Nicky looks up at him, his eyes almost immediately welling with tears again.

“It seems your demands to the universe were clear, hayati,” Joe says, his own voice a little thick. “And the universe listened.”

Nicky gathers him up, holding him as tight as he can, crying hard once more.

“Shh, my Nicky,” Joe murmurs against his neck. “You have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> \-- Short comments  
> \-- Long comments  
> \-- Questions  
> \-- “<3” as extra kudos  
> \-- Reader-reader interaction
> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> shout at me on [tumblr](https://kneesofthebee.tumblr.com)


End file.
